


I am in control ( Quentin Beck x Reader )

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Dominant Quentin, Dry Humping, F/M, Pretty public humiliation, Smut, Stalker ish?, its filthy, slight phone sex, this is also an old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25770457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Your mysterious neighbor can't keep his eyes off of you.( Smut in second chapter. )AN : This was written a while back when I still had my marvel obsession, but I found it in my drafts and thought- why not post it?
Relationships: Mysterio/Reader, Quentin Beck/Reader
Kudos: 38





	1. Neighbors

**A/N : I wrote this quite a while ago, but I'm transitioning my old works onto this account for simplicity so... It's not too bad, but it's not my best work either.**   
  
  


Ever since you attended that neighborhood party something changed in you, perhaps it was the fact that for once you got out of your house and now you understood that you weren't the only one in this god forsaken apartment complex - however it could also be the initial meeting of the 'Mystery Man' you haven't been able to shake from your mind. He was rather tall in comparison to you (however it's not hard to be taller than you while you've been 5'4 since 9th grade), at least 7 inches taller with a charming grin. His face seemed soft and caring yet there was something about him that wasn't conveyed by his smile or kind eyes - and that interested you beyond belief.   
  
  


When you first met, you had been making your way to a table set out with various deserts at your annual apartment complex's gathering. It was an opportunity for you to meet those who resided nearby, something that didn't particularly interest you in general. However, the flyer stated there would be a variety of desserts and food so you decided you'd give it a chance.   
  
  


**A day earlier**   
  
  


"Excuse me, pardon me." You muttered, the repetitive phrases falling off your pinkish lips as if rehearsed prior. Carefully, you lowered your shoulder in an attempt to squeeze past the onslaught of people who you weren't even aware lived nearby. While others were socializing, you chose the route of most self preservation as you approached the catered dessert table. It was surprisingly empty other than a standoffish male resting his palm on the edge of the table, calloused fingers gripping the liner as his eyes scanned the crowd.   
  
  


He was an unfamiliar face, not like you'd recognize your own next door neighbor if need be it, but something about him was particularly unfamiliar. He stood tall, radiating a loner aura whilst his fingers tap absentmindedly on the table - he didn't seem particularly up to being bothered.   
  
  


Unfortunately, he stood right in front of your favorite cookies and you had to weigh whichever option would be more awkward -- trying to uncomfortably squeeze by him much like the way you did throughout the crowd or simply ask him to move aside for a moment. It was a true mental dilemma that resorted in you choosing the latter. While he stood like a wall, you approached like a meek mouse with a small dessert plate at the ready.   
  
  


"Excuse me." You uttered quietly, so mouse-like you were unaware if he'd actually hear you. Much to your surprise, his people watching gaze snaps as he turns to look down at you, a curious brow raised in response to your presence. This was the first time you'd gotten a real look at the man in question -- it's embarrassing enough to say you froze up. He was taller up close, as most things are, with a light scruff gracing his features in the utmost spectacular way. His lips are forced together in a thin line as he looks at you curiously, icy blue eyes scanning you while your legs work hard to keep you upright.   
  
  


"Yes?" The man questions, voice softer than you expected. You thought of speaking up, yet judging by your inability to keep an unthreatened posture you chose to simply point to the cookies in question - Mystery boy followed your pointer finger until he was looking down at the cookies, then let a small laugh rumble through his throat.   
  
  


He mused with a smile before reaching his hand out as if silently asking you to hand him your plate, which you complied absentmindedly as you handed it over to the tall brunette. He nodded in response to your compliance before removing the hand formally tapping on the table and picking up two of the plumpest, most delicious looking cookies and putting them onto the plate.   
  
  


The cookies were still warm, laid out among a heated plate leaving the chocolate to occasionally melt in contact with somebody's hands, this was evident as Mystery Boy reached for the chocolatey cookies. He acknowledged the melted sweet now on his finger as he reached the cookies back out to you. You reached your hand out carefully to take the glass plate, your delicate fingers brush against his under the glass as he shifts the weight of the objects to your fingers.   
  
  


After you now possess the items fully, he reaches his sweetly messy finger up to brush past his lips, swirling his tongue expertly around his digits as he cleans up the chocolate, letting out a noise of appreciation of the sweet flavor invading his taste buds.   
  
  


You can't take your eyes off, and it would be a wonder if he didn't notice. Your eyes were locked on the way his tongue curled amongst his digits until they were spotless from any trace of melted chocolate. They were removed from his lips with a satisfying pop before he lets his hand once against rest on the edge of the table for stability. However, you continue your trance as you simply stare at his soft peachy lips, not aware of your mouth hanging open ever so slightly, he notices and takes a mental note.  
  
  


"Quentin." The mystery man speaks once again, removing his hand from the table yet again as he holds it out to you, his lips curving into a broad cheeky smile. "Beck, my name is Quentin Beck." He introduces.   
  
  


You are left in your daze for a moment longer, aware you're unnecessarily staring at the way his toothy grin curves his cheeks in a way that pronounces his sculpted cheekbones pop out even further from his groomed facial hair. After a moment of internally screaming at yourself for being so damn awkward, you are finally able to tear your gaze from his mouth and your inappropriate imagination.  
  
  


"I-" You attempt to speak but as a single sound expels from your throat you manage to have a voice crack - a single syllable makes you squeak and if it wasn't noticeable how this stranger affected you before it sure as hell is now. Quentin's eyes soften more at your voice crack, and for a moment you zone out to the floor as you mentally yell at yourself for being such a mess during your first socialization in the last year that you don't notice he's taken small steps towards you.   
  
  


"I... I'm [y/n]." You manage to spit out, voice hushed as you continue your floor observation until his shoes come in sight-line. The notice of him moving closer causes your attention to snap up to his face, his toothy grin is still spread cheek to cheek yet now there's another emotion in his eyes that isn't known yet.  
  
  


"[y/n]." He repeats, testing the sound of your name rolling off his beautiful lips. Your knees fight the urge to buckle beneath his nonchalant dominant aurora while you try to recollect yourself. The attempt to calm your mind is proven to be more difficult than you may have believed as your eye contact with Quentin isn't broken - he's searching your [e/c] orbs for answers that you don't know yourself.   
  
  


"Quentin..." You mutter instictintly, watching his eyebrows furrow in a curious way at your hushed whisper of his name. You're both quiet for a few more moments, moments that make the world stop and the conversation surrounding the pair of you cease to exist. It's simply the two of you - crowding the dessert table.   
  
  


"Ma'am, Sir, may I get a cookie?" A small voice breaks the two of you from your unwavering frustrating eye contact, Quentin is the first to look by you as he tilts his head to the side. A small child, no older than 6, stands behind you with a polite smile and chubby cheeks. He points to the cookies you had asked for before, and Quentin can't help but laugh at the childish parallels between you and the literal child. The tall mystery man repeats his kind actions as he takes the kid's plate, backtracking a few steps as he fills the plate with more cookies than he had given you. The kid's face lights up as he reaches both arms out eagerly, awaiting the sweets to be in his possession.   
  
  


Quentin bends down, taking a quick glance around the trio of you as he spots nobody in particular looking their way. He hands the kid the pile of cookies with a lopsided grin.   
  
  


"Don't tell your mother I gave you that many, aight?" He persuades, adding a playful wink to prove his alliance with the sweet-obsessed kid.  
  
  


The kid just nods quickly, smiling just as brightly as the man whose been frustrating you for the past who-knows-how long before scurrying off. Quentin has the nerve to laugh - deep and throaty as if continuing his mock laugh from earlier before he leans back up.   
  
  


"Anyways." Beck states, crossing his arms over his chest as he rocks himself on his heels for a moment, "That kid has the same mentality as you, [y/n]."   
  
  


"Shut it." You mutter, meaning nothing behind the fighting words but his sudden eyebrow raise shows he read it totally different. Your eyes widen, not in a scary tone but in a 'please don't take that the wrong way and ruin everything' tone towards your already budding 'crush'.   
  
  


"I wouldn't say that, unless you want to get--" Quentin stops, as if he's having the same mental dilemma, he clears his throat and you watch his adam's apple bob as he literally swallows his words. "Anyways." He repeats from moments prior, averting his eyes from you as he looks to his shoes. You can't help but feel nervous, left wondering if your words genuinely affected his image of you. You couldn't allow the silence to continue, the longer you thought of the idiotic word choice the more you felt a weight collapsing on your heart.   
  
  


"Which apartment do you live in?" You eventually blurt out, averting your eyes from his expression as you fear a judgmental look is coming - but instead his eyes soften in curiosity.   
  
  


"A5. The one on the lake." Quentin states calmly, resting his arms over his chest as his left hand rubs his right bicep up and down, pushing up the fabric of his matte black shirt to allow yourself more view of his genuine muscle. Your posture seemingly goes through a metaphorical u-turn as you straighten your back, slowly looking up to meet his eyes as you allow a tight smile to thin out your lips as you release a huffed laugh.   
  
  


"Really?" You question, imitating his arms crossed, "I live in C3, you know the small building across the little strait?" You state, watching Quentin exhale in laughter.   
  
  


"Really?" He parrots, "My room in particular, it's on the second floor but my bedroom window points directly to that building. Sometimes I window watch - not in a weird way but in a contemplative way." Quentin pauses, unwrapping his crossed arms as he playfully holds out his hands as if defending himself, "I don't stare at people, just acknowledge how small the strait is and how close the buildings are, promise. I'm no creeper."   
  
  


You can't help but laugh, a small snicker at his defensive but playful tone as you nod your head in understanding. "My room is on the second floor as well... I believe you're the window straight across from me- do you have one of those octopus lamps?" You ask, not particularly knowing the term for one of those bendable lamps - and judging by Quentins chuckle you must have either gotten the wrong window and exposed yourself for looking into a random person's apartment, or gotten it right but still exposed yourself for looking into Quentin's window.   
  
  


"It's not called an 'octopus lamp', but I know what you mean." Quentin insisted, propping his palm against the dessert table like earlier, "and you're right, but now you've admitted to window watching as well?" He mused, his voice taking a small condescending tone as he called you out for your wording mistake. You lower your gaze, letting out a forced awkward laugh as you apologetically nod, Quentin simply shakes his head.  
  
  


"No, no, don't feel bad. I'm flattered, truly." The man reassures, making you feel a tad bit better as you raise your gaze up again, flashing a thankful smile, "however now I wonder if you've seen anything interesting- I do walk around without c-"   
  
  


His words are interrupted, thankfully yet disappointing as your cheeks begin flushing a soft red in response to his words. His phone begins to ring, and he lets out a throaty groan before reaching into his pocket and fishing out the cellphone. He glances to the caller ID and his nose wrinkles in disgust, but as his gaze meets yours once again you can tell it's serious.   
  
  


"I.. apologize, but I have to go now." Quentin states over the loud ringing, he knows it will go to voicemail soon and you can tell he doesn't want that so you simply nod.   
  
  


"I'll be in touch, trust me." Quentin finishes, adding a cheeky wink before clicking the call accept button and offering you one last wave before he spins on his heels - disappearing into the crowd.   
  
  


You refuse to accept that as the end, and you'll for sure feel less awkward looking through his window now.   
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filth.

It's been a week - one long, dreadfully boring week. That's how long it's been since your initial meeting with 'Mystery Boy', or Quentin as he insists you stop calling him anything but. You haven't had much time to interact since the neighborhood get-together, but now that you both are aware of your bedroom windows being a few yards across from one another you've communicated in particularly interesting ways.   
  
  


The first time you caught him peeping through his window his cheeks turned a soft pink as you watched him laugh a bit, ducking his head as he pushed himself back in a rolly-chair. You couldn't genuinely hear his laugh, but his smile alone made you swoon from across the tiny strait separating apartment buildings.   
  
  


Your second time it was a mutual catch, you had your elbows propped on your desk expertly placed below the window in question as you zoned out a stare towards the other building, he was coming home from wherever he was employed (which called him to wear a black button up and tie with dress pants, you internally thanked his workplace dress code) as he tossed his bag to his bed. Quentin reached up and grabbed at his tie, loosening it around his neck as he made direct eye contact with you through an open window. Now, it was your turn to have a soft blush creep over your delicate features.  
  
  


You two continued to attempt communication, until eventually Quentin had a brilliant idea of holding his fingers up to 'spell' out his phone number - you realized how stupid the both of you were for waiting that long in the first place, but at least you got it. The two of you had began to text along with the exchanged goofy looks from window to window, but it was all innocent up until one day.   
  
  


You had gotten home from work late, expecting his bedroom light to already be turned off as you stepping into your minimalist bedroom. Without checking the window, you made your way towards your closet as you hang your purse on the handle, reaching up with your now free hands to yank your pony-tail free from the hair tie's hold. It had been a long day at your workplace and quite honestly you needed to let go of your tension from your boring office job.   
  
  


Without even turning on your bedroom light, your hands found themselves struggling to grip the back zipper of your form fitting black work-dress. As your delicate finger grazes against the metal zipper, you catch it between your thumb and middle finger as you finally are able to pull it down. Once the dress is loosened, you're able to lift your arms and slide the straps off your moonlit shoulders, letting out a deep sigh of comfort once the dress falls to the floor.   
  
  


The action leaves you in nothing but your matching bra and panty set. For a moment you savor the quiet, nothing but the mechanical whirl of your air conditioning echoing throughout the bedroom faintly as the cold air brushes against your partially naked body, you allow yourself to take a few more well deserved breaths as you stand your place in the middle of your room - internally contemplating whether or not you should go to bed or take a shower. However, these thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your phone buzzing on your bed.   
  
  


It's Quentin, he's calling. Your eyebrows furrow as you bend down to pick up the phone, your eyes darting to your alarm clock that reads '12:43 AM'. You fight the urge to simply send him to voicemail and call him the next day, you are truly exhausted, but as you stand quietly in the middle of your moon lit room you wonder why he's calling this late at night; although you're tired, your curiosity gets the best of you and you answer.   
  
  


"Yea? Hello?" You begin, resting the phone against the side of your face as you lift your shoulder to hold it in place.   
  
  


"Oh- hey, [y/n]." Quentin answered, voice deep and hushed as he cleared his throat at realization of how throaty his voice sounds. "Didn't expect you to answer." He finished.   
  
  


"Of course I did, but it's late. Whatcha want?" You questioned, making your way to your closet as you push it open, rummaging through your various pajamas to find something to put on.   
  
  


"For you not to do that." Quentin states, no longer trying to hide his throaty-grumble voice as you raise an eyebrow in response. He doesn't even need to see your face to know you're confused, "Your window, it's open. I was up and well.. Wasn't expecting a show."   
  
  


You froze for a moment, dropping the fluffy onesie you had reached out to grab as you spin to look at your window - making distant eye contact with Quentin from across the strait. His hair is messy, almost like he has already tried to go to bed, and he lacks a shirt. You watch him straighten his back in response to your acknowledgment before removing the phone from his ear. He slowly moves to set it on the desk in front of him, clicking speaker without breaking eye contact.   
  
  


"Now now, please don't stop on my accord." Quentin states, tilting his chin upwards ever-so-slightly as he lets out a small huffed laugh followed by a rough chuckle. His eyes slowly drift from your face, grazing over your body as his tongue darts from his mouth to run along his bottom lip.  
  
  


Your lips push together into a thin line as you feel his gaze sending a heat straight to your core, "Quentin..." You mumble, voice coming out more breathless than you expected as you fought back to repeat his name through a whine. His look alone was making you needy- making you want him.   
  
  


"Yes, honey?" Quentin purred out, leaning over the desk as his elbows keep him propped up. His blue eyes are darkened in a lust-filled daze as his lips curl into a grin.   
  
  


"Come over." You breath out, watching his eyebrow raise in response to your bold request. He lets out yet another throaty laugh as he reaches for his phone, holding it close to his lips. He's thinking of the words to choose next, he's thinking of how to answer in general, and perhaps you can push him in the right direction.   
  
  


Strolling over to your window-side desk, you place your phone delicately down before parroting his earlier action of putting the call on speaker. He's watching you curiously now, not saying a word as he controls his breathing. Hesitantly, you reach your right hand behind you, making sure your fingers dance along your skin in a slow sensual pattern that makes his sit up even more in his chair — he's interested.   
  
  


Your thumb and index fingers brush together behind the clasp of your bra, one by one disconnecting each one before it's held up by nothing but the loose straps over your shoulders. Quentin is watching you intently, as if telling you to stop, as if you're sinning profoundly. His knuckles are turning while by his hands gripping the armrests of his chair.  
  
  


"That's enough." Quentin demands, his tone switching into dangerous territory as yet another heated sensation rolls straight to your core. Your knees buckle slightly but you can't stop until Quentin is there to get you to stop. You reach up and Quentin narrows his eyes dangerously. Slowly, your pinky loops under the thin black strap of your bra, and one by one you pull both straps from your shoulders. Your bra hits the floor right as Quentin lets out a low groan.   
  
  


"Oh, honey, you're gonna regret that. I believe a punishment for disobeying is in order. I'm on my way." He says, voice boarding a growl as he pushes the words from the depths of his throat. He reached up, grabbing the string before lowering his blinds so you can no longer see his lust-filled eyes. He hangs up the phone and your knees buckle at the idea of what he's about to do to you.  
  
  


It didn't take long until a harsh knock at your door echoed throughout your apartment, your tongue jutted out from your mouth to brush over your lower lip. Taking a deep breath, you make your way out of your room and into the living room where yet another knock resonates throughout your house. Slowly, you stalk up to your front door, reaching for the doorknob and turning it slowly.   
  
  


Your chest is against the door as you crane your neck around the door, peaking to confirm your assumptions of who was there as your eyes are met with a frustrated looking Quentin. His back is against the other wall in the hallway, arms crossed over his chest as he wears a tight black shirt that grips his muscles firmly and loose fitted basketball shorts.   
  
  


"Ah, hello [y/n]." He greeted casually, unraveling his arms crossed over his chest as he reaches up to brush his messy hair from his forehead. "May I come in?" He questions, a faux innocent smile with questionable intentions gracing his rough features.   
  
  


You don't say a word, but simply nod as you back up, pulling the door along with you as a shield to protect your exposed body in-case a random neighbor decided to stroll down the hall this late at night. Quentin enters your living room, taking a quick glance around the room as you turn your attention to closing the door. You take a step forward, twisting the handle until it clicks into place place before turning around — however as soon as you turn your back is against the wall.   
  
  


Quentin takes both your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head whilst his free hand is rested on the door next to your head. His body is so close you can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the proximity sends a weakened feeling through your legs as you struggle to stand.   
  
  


"God..." Quentin grumbled, nipping his lower lip between his teeth as his eyes scan you up and down, earning an accidental whimper from you as his gaze shoots back to look you in the eyes. He gets closer, staring you down until you feel small under his dominance. "You really tested my patience, darling, not listening to me when I tell you to stop... tsk tsk tsk." Quentin muttered, ducking his head so his breath was hot against your ear as his lips found their way to your sweet spot expertly.   
  
  


You let out a soft whimper at his actions, tilting your head to give Quentin more space as he nibbled and bit at your neck - surely leaving a dark mark by the time he was finished with you. You attempted to pull your hands apart, but alas they were stuck under his harsh hold. He tightened his grip at the feeling of your escape attempt, only making you let out a soft moan.   
  
  


"Mmm." Quentin mused, his light scruff brushing against your neck making your skin extra sensitive, "Such a bad girl, aren't you? First you tease me while my hands can't be on you, now you're trying to free yourself..?" His voice is hushed against your ear, but his words are soon broken by a groan as you jut your hips forward for any sort of friction.   
  
  


You push your pelvis forward, feeling his bulge through his loose shorts as you roll your hips to grind against him. His words are completely stopped with broken groans, and for a moment it's almost as if you have control over him as his grip on your wrists falter. The moment of weakness allows you to snake your hands out of his hold, reaching down to palm him as you let out a breathy whimper. You step forward, lightly pushing him to the wall by his shoulders.   
  
  


Quentin lets out a huff as his back collides with the wall right as he realizes your attempts to reclaim dominance. He lets out a deep chuckle, grabbing your hand attempting to palm him before stepping forward. "Not on my watch." He grumbled, watching as you instinctively take a step back. He continues to pursue his steps towards you until the back of your leg hits the arm of your soft couch. Quentin pushes his hips against you, this time it's his turn to make you melt.   
  
  


"You want to try and be in control, darling? You think you can hold that over me?" Quentin groaned lowly. You moan, louder than you may have wanted as he manages to push against your clothes clit with his hard-on. He leant down, finally colliding the two of your lips for the first time in a messy desperate kiss. You whine against his lips, earning a brief chuckle from him as he pulled away.   
  
  


"I. Am. In. Charge." Quentin growled out, punctuation each syllable with a thrust against your heat - you felt the knot in your stomach forming as you let out a long line of whines and moans, begs.   
  
  


Then, suddenly, Quentin pulled away. He was breathless, watching as you lean against the couch while trying to catch your own breath. He could feel how close you were and he didn't want to give you the satisfaction just yet, he wanted to feel your walls clench around him while you screamed out his name and came undone.   
  
  


"What do you want?" He finally asks, earning a tiny whimper from you as you find the strength in your legs to stand.   
  
  


"Sir, fuck me, please." You moan out softly, gulping hard as he simply lets out another dark sadistic chuckle.   
  
  


"As you wish." Quentin steps forward as your bodies are against one another once again, ducking his head to your neck as he begins to pay attention to the already forming marks on your delicate skin while his hands begin to roam your body. His left hand finds itself at the waistband of your panties, the only article of clothing left on your body, he continues to move his hands down until he's grabbing the backs of your thighs as if telling you to jump. You comply as you wrap your legs around your favorite Mystery Boy. He moves his head away from your neck for a moment as he begins to make his way towards your bedroom.   
  
  


You put your hands on his chest, running them down his torso until they are met with the bottom of his black top. You yanked at the material before pulling it over his head and tossing it onto your bedroom floor as Quentin makes his way towards your bed. Quentin carefully drops you to the mattress, standing back as he grabs both the waistband of his shorts and boxers in one and pulled them down his leg, kicking them aside elsewhere in the room before making his way to the edge of the bed.   
  
  


You sit up, taking a deep breath as you look down at the bottom of the bed where he kneels. Quentin lifts a hand, curling his index finger towards himself as he hints for you to scoot down - once again, without hesitation you reply. As you sit on the edge of the bed you throw your legs over his shoulders, looking down at him through the minute about of light gifted by the moon and half lidded eyes. One of Quentin's hands finds itself to rest on your thigh, earning a quiet whimper from you while he's eye-level with your core.   
  
  


Quentin's other hand slowly slides along your inner thigh before his finger pushes aside the thin fabric of your panties. He glances up to you as if searching for permission - you nod quickly as you attempt to push your hips forward, Quentin lightly slaps your thigh with narrowed eyes. You let out a small whimper as the shock of pain runs straight to your core and morph into pleasure.   
  
  


"Mmm, so wet... all for me." Quentin mumbled, his eyes meeting the damp fabric clothing your heat. He begins leaning forward as he leaves kisses along your inner thigh, his lips leaving dark purple spots wherever they went as he'd bite and suck at your sensitive skin. You instinctively spread your thighs as he continues to move closer to where you need him most, he's teasing you with every nip and bite right beside your panties.   
  
  


"Quentin.." You whimper out, gaze fixed on his head rested between your thighs as you reach to tangle your hands into his hair. He looks up to you, moving the hand rested formally on your upper thigh to toy with the edges of the thin fabric covering your core. One finger works to push aside the fabric while the other brushes against your soaked folds. The small sensation makes you addicted to his warmth, the way his eyes stare up at you just sends another sensation straight to your pussy.   
  
  


"Mm. I see you like my fingers here darling." Quentin muttered lowly, teasing your entrance lightly with his middle finger whilst you throw your head back, small noises of want falling from your lips. "God your little noises..." his finger slowly dips into your entrance, "they drive me crazy." He finished, looking up to you once again as you keep your fingers tangled into his hair.   
  
  


Suddenly, he slams his finger into you, watching as you gasp unexpectedly and tighten your grip on his dark hair. This action only seems to fuel him more as he inserts yet another digit, pumping them in and out repeatedly. He pushes his fingers deep in you, ever so often his knuckle brushes against your clit sending a pleasurable sensation throughout your body. His fingers continue to work you to the very edge, the knot in your stomach continues to build up as you can feel the edge approaching.   
  
  


Then the mischievous fucker pulls away. His fingers are soaked and a shit eating grin spreads from cheek to cheek.   
  
  


"You're not finishing until I'm inside you, darling." Quentin speaks, earning a groan from you and you miss the feeling of his fingers inside of you - however that would soon change as you felt Quentin lean back up and strip himself from his boxers. The last remaining article of clothing hits the ground as his cock hits his stomach with a slapping sound.   
  
  


He was painfully erect.   
  
  


Quentin stepped forward, leaning over you while keeping his feet planted on the ground and pinning his right hand to the bed next to your head to steady himself.  
  
  


"You ready?" He whispered, staring directly into your e/c eyes searching for compliance. It doesn't take you more than a second to nod, but he raises his eyebrows. "Words, darling, I want to hear you tell me how much you want me."  
  
  


You let out a needy whimper as you push up you hips, but his left hand comes down right on your hipbone to push you straight into the bed once again. Theres not avoiding it.   
  
  


"God— Quentin please. I want you in me, I want to feel my walls stretch around your cock as I scream your name-"  
  
  


Quentin interrupts your words as he slams into you, earning a loud moan from the both of you. Your back arches towards him as his free hand roams your body. His thrusts are slowly, allowing you to get used to him as he fills every inch of you. Your hands are still tangled in his short locks as you grasp at his hair, pulling at it as a hint for him to move faster — which he takes.   
  
  


He begins to rock his hips against you deeper, picking up the pace as the room is soon full of groans and panting. You whine with each thrust, moaning out his name as his left hand finds itself to grip your waist while he slams into you hard.   
  
  


"F-fuck." Quentin groans out, feeling your walls tighten around him with each harsh thrust. He finds your sweet spot rather quickly, and with each thrust he begins to slam into it, and you can already feel the twice edged knot forming in your core once again.   
  
  


"Q-Quentin-" you moan, throwing your head back against the mattress as you let out small whimpers with each punctual thrust, "I'm c-close!" You call out, hearing a small grunt from Quentin of acknowledgment.   
  
  


"God fuck... me too darling, let it out." Quentin mumbled, his thrusts becoming quicker and deeper as he helps you reach your climax — the knot comes undone as a wave of euphoric pleasure runs over your body. You arch your back into his touch as he helps you ride out his high, his thrusts becoming jagged themselves as his high follows soon after. He pushes a few more thrusts into your clenched wall before pulling out and coming undone all over your stomach.   
  
  


Quentin takes a deep breath, the two of you panting messes as his warm cum pools against your ribcage. Quentin glances down, letting out a tired laugh as he makes his way to his discarded shirt before leaning over you and dabs it against your stomach.   
  
  


"I made a mess, didn't I?" Quentin muttered, attempting to catch his breath as he helps clean you up. You let out a parroted laugh, leaning up once he has wiped off your stomach before reaching up and grabbing his jaw, practically yanking him down into a passionate kiss.   
  
  


He kisses back quickly, dropping the shirt as his hands come up to cup your face. The kiss continues a bit longer before you pull away to take a breath.   
  
  


"We both did..." you replied, smiling softly at him, "but I'm not complaining... now... wanna get some clothes on and go to sleep?" You question, lifting your hand to trace your finger across his cheekbone.  
  
  


"You want me to stay?" Quentin asks, his smile radiating a surprised blissfulness that made the whole room feel brighter.   
  
  


"Of course, now get some clothes and come cuddle." You mused, watching as his smile widens.   
  
  


"Yes ma'am."


End file.
